Bond of Blood
by DracoNunquamDormiens
Summary: In November 1959, two boys are born twelve hours apart, to families as different from each other as could be. Despite it all, they end up becoming inseparable, and this is their story. Runaway (Bleed Black) AU.
1. One: Family Ties

**Disclaimer:** Do not remove this disclaimer under penalty of law.

For optimum performance and safety, please read these instructions carefully. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or events, past, present or future, is purely coincidental. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent. No plush rabbits or toddlers have been harmed during the production of this chapter. This product is meant for educational purposes only.

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 **In this Chapter:** Lots of baby stuff, even more babies sticking random stuff in their mouths, and of course, the Blacks are such lovely people, so I ended up sniffling while writing… yeah.

 **Dedication:** I wrote this fic for MilyMB on AO3, who makes my day every time she reviews and I really have no other way to say thank you. She asked for a James and Sirius meet fic with lots of Potters and Blacks in it. I wanted to write a one-shot, but it grew (it happens a lot), and it's now a three-parter, possibly even a four or five-parter, that is to say, I have no clue how long this will be because I don't trust myself around the subject at all, and it _definitely_ goes beyond them just meeting. So, MilyMB, I hope you like this, my version of a big thank you for your continued support!

Also also many thanks as always to Shayde123, for sharing her kids' baby pics and giving me invaluable pointers on the reality of toddlerhood!

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* * *

 **Blood-Bond**

 **By DracoNunquamDormiens**

 **One: Family Ties**

* * *

.

On the first of November, 1959, at three-fourteen in the afternoon, the Potters welcomed a miracle into their lives, one they had prayed for with all their might for years. They named him James, after Betty's own father and because they didn't want to curse him with Coop's own first name, and Copernillius, because Coop couldn't get away with it completely, because Betty _likes_ the name. And they love him boundlessly and fiercely.

They look at him, and say, "He is perfect."

On the second of November, 1959, at three-fourteen in the morning, the Blacks welcomed their own son into the world, one they had done endless rituals and ceremonies to bring into being. They named him Sirius Orion Soren Pendragon, after the founder of their Most Ancient and Noble House, not because they like the name, but because of its significance. Orion Black looks at the tiny baby screaming in his wife's arms, sees the sparks of magic bursting around him and he knows, "He is perfect."

Walburga agrees.

Both couples know, deep down, that their child will change the world as they have known it.

The Potters, because he is their miracle, the culmination of years' of longing and wishing. He is special. To them, he cannot be anything else.

The Blacks, because he is the future of their ancient House, the result of careful preparation, the culmination of the best in magical engineering… the next Merlin, the future of the House of Black. He _cannot_ be anything else.

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* * *

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In the Potter household, life becomes hectic for the Potters and their four House Elves; James is a demanding child, but he is never fussy without a reason. Coop and Betty Potter lavish love and care on him, cherishing every instant of happiness he brings.

He is a bright child, and definitely magical— this becomes evident a few weeks after his birth, when instead of crying to be held, he summons Betty to his room. The Potters laugh and cry with joy, even if they'd have loved him every bit as fiercely if he had been a Squib.

In the House of Black, life is incredibly hectic for the elves tasked with looking after the Black Heir. Walburga is exceedingly demanding, orders for her child not to want for anything and frets about him constantly. His every moment in life is already mapped out as carefully as his birth was. Nothing is left to chance.

He is a bright child, wide-eyed and curious— Sirius never fusses, but he isn't given any reason to, either — and most importantly, he is very much magical. This was evidenced moments after his birth, when he floated out of his cot and found Walburga's arms. It was a relief for her— they would never suffer a Squib to soil their House.

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* * *

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As the November frost gives way to the December festivities, both families ready themselves for a very important Yule: They will hold their sons' Naming Rites then, the ancient _Baisteadh Geinntlidhe_ , the Rain of Protection.

Being cousins with the Blacks, the Potters are invited to the celebration. The invitation becomes impossible to decline; word has spread that the boys were born twelve hours apart, and Walburga's letter leaves them no choice but to attend the Black Heir's presentation, due to occur an hour before midnight, and followed by the Blacks' traditional Yule Feast. In response, they reluctatly invite the Blacks to James's Naming.

On the Yule, Coop and Betty Potter welcome friends and relatives in Godric's Hollow's ancient stone circle at eleven in the morning. Like thousands of Potters before him, he squalls throughout the ceremony, and when the Grand Druid showers him with the Rain of Protection and welcomes him into the Magical Community, his magic responds with a glowing burst of sparks that showers them all with light.

The entire village is invited for the lavish party in Godric's Hall, and little James is passed from arm to arm, blessed and kissed and showered with gifts and winter flowers, along with wishes for a happy life, filled with joy and wonder and good health. Despite having invited the entire family, the only Black to attend the event is Orion's younger brother, Alphard, who then accompanies the Potters to his own nephew's Naming.

The ceremony takes place at eleven at night, in the far grander stone circle of Stonehenge, and coincidentally, it is presided by the same Grand Druid who twelve hours earlier, cast the Rain of Protection on James.

James himself watches curiously from the depths of his blanket, safely ensconced in his father's arms, as the raven-haired baby is lifted into the old wizard's arms, giggling as the potion rains on him. There are no sparks; instead, lightning strikes all around the stone circle, and a sudden storm drenches everyone to the bone.

"That one's going to be a handful," Coop comments, laughing along with everyone else, an umbrella charm covering his wife and son. James giggles and coos his agreement.

Orion couldn't be prouder as he takes his son from the Druid's arms and holds him aloft for everyone to see.

The party, held in Blackheath, one of the Blacks' estates in nearby Somerset, lasts well into the night. Everyone wants to see the beautiful little boys, and Sirius, like James earlier that day, is passed around from arm to arm.

The blessings that reach the Potters' ears couldn't be more different from those bestowed on James earlier, however; they are blessings for strength, and might, and power for the House of Black, for a continuation of the bloodline and a wish for him to be a source of pride to his elders.

When he gets to the Potters, everyone lets out their _"awwws"_ and _"ooohs";_ how couldn't they, both babies look adorable together. They could be brothers, is the public opinion. Sirius looks at them with wide, clear eyes, gurgling at them, Betty's finger grasped in his tiny fist, while she and Coop wish him a joyful life, full of happiness and laughter. They are the only ones to do so, but nobody thinks anything of it. They are all too endeared at the way James grasps onto Sirius and refuses to let go when it's time to pass him on to Alphard, and they laugh at the way both start crying when they're separated.

"They already seem to get along famously," Orion states to Coop a few hours later, watching their firstborns fast asleep in the same cot, curled up against each other.

"You ought to bring him by Godric's Hall," Coop agrees, smiling and clapping his cousin on the shoulder.

"And you can bring yours here," Orion replies genially. "Walburga doesn't want to take him to London yet, he is too young to be exposed to all that Muggle filth," he adds, and Coop's smile becomes rather fixed. Orion, of course, is too full of himself to notice. "Come, cousin, let us join the party. Alphard's elf won't let anything happen to either of them, and I don't want to wake them up."

The Potters leave a little later, after many polite assurances that they will visit the Blacks again soon.

They don't see them again for eight months.

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* * *

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"It's just for a few hours," Coop assures Betty. It's a cold September afternoon, and he is bouncing James up and down on his knee, to the small boy's delight. "We have been avoiding them for months, and Walburga— you know how she gets when she doesn't get her way."

"Yes, honey, but…" Betty gives Coop a pleading look, lowers her voice. "They're a terrible influence for our Jamie."

"Dada! _Higher_!" James squeals just then, and they both laugh.

"It might do him some good to be around someone his own age," Coop offers after a thoughtful moment. "Sirius _is_ his cousin, and we haven't seen him since the Naming."

"I'm not sure I want Jamie around him," Betty admits, now tugging a dishcloth from his chubby hands before it finds its way into his mouth. Everything seems to, lately. "I fear he'll become another Orion."

"They're not even one year old," Coop counters, but he sounds apologetic. "And they _are_ family. I can't keep saying James is teething—" he turns to look at James, who is grinning at him, shows him his four front teeth, and they both laugh again. "Or that he's ill. I've run out of excuses, and… it's _just_ for a couple of hours. I told Walburga we're expected at Bathilda's for a luncheon with her grandchildren."

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* * *

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When they arrive at Blackheath Manor, they are greeted by a small child's loud laughter and the sounds of utter chaos from somewhere out of sight.

"Oh, oh, I'll be right down," Walburga Black calls from the top of the stairs, and she is either under the influence of a potion or overjoyed to see them.

 _That's a first,_ thinks Coop, but he hands the goblin butler their travelling cloaks regardless of his sudden misgivings. Walburga's lithe form tipetty-taps down a moment later and greets them effusively.

"Someone's happy," Betty murmurs into Coop's ear, under the pretence of taking James from him so he can hug his cousin. Coop gives Walburga a smile and a kiss on each cheek. She is usually arrogant and snobbish, not at all given to emotional displays, so he has to agree with his wife.

"Oh, and you brought _James_!" Walburga exclaims, as if she's just remembering what they're here for at all. "He's such a little darling," she adds, regarding him as though looking at a favourite pet. "Our Sirius will love playing with him."

"Yes," Coop replies uncertainly, acutely aware that the laughing has stopped… and that it came from somewhere nearby. "Where is the little terror?"

"Terror is right," Walburga laughs good-naturedly. It's a fair indication that not everything is quite alright there. "He is with his elf, in the play room. Come with me," she adds, adjusting her hair and leading the way to what looks like anyone's dream playroom. It is a very strange sight; the Blacks are possibly the Darkest wizards in creation, and yet the room they are led to is filled with light, plush toys and building blocks and every baby toy or game the Wizarding World has created.

"He keeps turning everything different colours," Walburga explains proudly. "We let him."

In the middle of the room, an elf is giggling with the chubby scion of the Blacks. Little Sirius is only wearing a nappy, grabbing onto the armrest of a squashy sofa to hold himself up, while the elf tries to get him dressed.

" _Aww,_ " Betty goes, and Coop bites back a smile. She's already endeared, and to be fair, it's hard not to be. Sirius is a beautiful child, with the most startling clear grey eyes he's ever seen. "He is _adorable_ , Walburga."

"He is that," his cousin agrees with undisguised pride. "I swear, I could look at him all day!"

"Come, Master Sirius," the elf says pleadingly, but she's laughing. "Let Ellie have your hand so Ellie can dress you."

"Shan't!" Sirius squeaks with delight, stomping a tiny foot on the carpet and giving the world a grin as toothy as the one James usually graces them with. "Shan't!"

James squeaks and tries to wrestle out of Betty's arms, motioning towards Sirius.

"Ellie, do get him dressed, he's got visitors!" Walburga calls gleefully. "He can't run around the place half naked!"

"Why don't we give Ellie a hand," Betty offers, barely holding on to James, who seems to think skydiving off his mother's arms is absolutely necessary now. "Maybe Sirius will be more inclined to get dressed when he sees him."

"Fine, fine, go ahead," Walburga's voice is quite musical today. It's nice. Odd, but nice. "I will see to our refreshments— you can leave your boy with Ellie, she's actually quite capable, usually." The elf gives Walburga an apologetic look. "But, it's understandable — our Sirius is quite the handful, and…"

Coop doesn't hear what else his retreating cousin has to say over the sudden shrill laughter issuing from her son's mouth: he's spotted them. And clearly, there's nothing wrong with his lungs at all.

"Atta!" Sirius squeaks, chubby legs working unsteadily to approach them, four teeth shining at them like a rabbit's when he reaches the edge of the sofa. An instant later, he's crawling towards them, his bright eyes fixed curiously on each of them as they settle on the softest plush carpet and put James down.

"Gubby gubby bubby!" squeaks James, prods Sirius's face with undisguised curiosity. Sirius flops down in front of him, regards James with wide eyes.

"Yiiiiik!" Sirius squeaks back after a moment's consideration, and they both giggle, fingers already exploring each other's mouths. A moment later, they're both sharing a plush rabbit that keeps trying to hop away from them and keeps them squeaking delightedly.

"Take some pictures, honey," Betty prompts, enthralled. "They look so cute together." Coop wishes they had brought the camera.

Ellie the elf takes her chance and deftly sticks Sirius in the tiniest dress robes in creation before her charge can wriggle away.

"Shan't!" Sirius says, giggling. "Shan't, Ellie! Shan't."

"Little Master has a new word," Ellie says, smiling fondly. "Ellie thinks he doesn't know what it means. He asking for his elevenses."

"Phhhhbbbt!" James blows a raspberry, and Sirius stops short, stares at him in amazement, and in a blinking, Ellie has him all dressed up and ready. James blows another raspberry. Sirius blows a spit bubble, and now it's James's turn to stare.

"Oh Gods, here we go," Coop chortles, as they both start spraying everything with slobber, in an attempt to mimic each other's tricks.

"Ellie can give them their elevenses," Walburga says from the doorway, in a slightly more sober tone. "Come, tea is served."

"Mama!" Sirius shrieks with delight, his chubby fist clutched around the ear of his plush rabbit. A wave of magic leaves him, and suddenly Coop feels… _happy_. Happier and more gleeful than he's ever felt, and he's not the only one. All around there's laughter, and he understands Walburga's strange behaviour all of a sudden.

"He is certainly contagious," says Betty, smiling widely. By Sirius's side, James is the only one who hasn't shown any change— but he was already excited to begin with. And suddenly they've both forgotten all about the adults and are making their way towards the sofa and a pile of magical plush toys that caught their interest.

"Oh, you have no idea," Walburga giggles. "The happiest little lad you've ever seen, driving everyone to distraction with a smile on his face. I told you they'd get on," she adds to Coop and Betty when they reluctantly get up and follow her out of the brightly-lit parlour. "I do hope we'll get him to stop it with the Cheering Charms, my face is hurting from smiling all day," she adds, leading them to another parlour, which, while elegantly-furnished and sunlit, feels almost oppressing in comparison to the one they just left.

"So, how is motherhood treating you, dear Walburga?" asks Betty, once they are comfortably settled, waited on by a handful of goblins in the traditional Black liveries.

"We are exceedingly happy, of course," she answers primly, lapsing back to her usual haughty self and delicately taking a sip from her cup. "Sirius is exactly what we wished for; smart as paint, and all but exuding magic. He is a little difficult at times, as you have seen, but we have procured the best elves to look after him." She regards them both curiously. "I noticed you did not bring any of your own."

"Oh, no," Coop says. "We usually look after him ourselves. The elves help, certainly, but…"

"Maybe you haven't found the right ones," Walburga interrupts primly. "I swear to you, I would go _quite_ doolally if I had to look after Sirius all day. I'll recommend our trader, he has elves for every occasion, Euphemia," she adds confidently. "I must say, you do look a bit tired, and at your age, it must be exhausting to have to look after a small child."

"I _don't_ —" Betty starts, clearly stung, but she doesn't get to finish.

"It's all right," Walburga reassures her, "I had to snatch Ellie from Alphard, can you imagine? Well, her name was something else, I forget— Sirius calls her Ellie, so we all do. Turned out to be the perfect nursery elf, she's completely wasted on that old bachelor! But Sirius loves her, and most of the time she even gets him to behave."

"He's rather too young to _behave_ , don't you think?" Betty asks, still affronted but not letting it show. Walburga doesn't even notice. "At this age?"

"Well, yes, of course," is the answer, "but we have so many social obligations, and everyone wants to see him, so we keep having to bring him along. He has everyone besotted, even Great-Aunt Elladora."

"That's a feat," Coop comments delicately. He and Betty have avoided Great-Aunt Elladora successfully for years now, and along with her, they have been avoiding all Blacks as a collective. Alphard is the only one they both can bear to be around for any extended period of time.

"He doesn't like her much," Walburga replies, scrunching up her nose with distaste. "Just the other day, he spat up on her."

"Give it time, Walburga," Betty says encouragingly. "He'll grow out of it soon, and then you'll miss his antic—"

Loud wailing cuts her short, and the next moment, Coop and Betty are racing each other towards its source, while Walburga's, "Just let the elves handle it!" follows them across the house.

When he skids to a halt, Coop takes in the scene: Ellie is climbing up a ladder, James is on the carpet, half out of his robes and bawling his eyes out, screaming, "UP! UP!" and gesturing for Sirius… who is sitting on top of a dresser, staring at him and looking quite perplexed.

"You want to go join him?" Coop asks, and the wailing stops abruptly.

"Dada! Up!" James hiccoughs, already pulling himself up on Coop's robes. "Up! Dada!"

"And you're quite the little climber, aren't you?" Betty asks Sirius fondly, picking him up from the dresser, but Sirius's expression changes at once, suddenly anxious. He stiffens, tries to push her away, whining. "Shh, shh, it's alright," she says reassuringly, bouncing him up and down gently. Coop doesn't miss the surprised look Sirius is giving her, and he feels a pang. For all her gushing, he hasn't seen Walburga even approach, never mind hold her son— Blacks don't commonly do that sort of thing, do they.

Sirius seems to quite like it in Betty's arms, though, because he gets comfortable incredibly quickly.

"Taffy!" he exclaims excitedly, then blows a raspberry. Betty smiles at him, and he smiles back, his tiny fingers clutching her robes.

"Ellie was trying to get him," the elf assures them nervously. The ladder has been put away, and she is wringing her ears. "Little Master likes to climb. And fly. Ellie needs a bigger ladder."

"It's quite alright, we've got him," Betty assures her, Sirius in her arms while Coop sits James on the dresser, much to his delight, and sticks him back in his clothes.

"Now you're up," Coop tells his son, who is all laughs again, "is it everything you expected?"

"Up," Sirius points out, and James squeaks happily.

Five minutes later, the excitement reaches an abrupt end. James is nestled against Coop, and Sirius lets out a tiny yawn and curls up against Betty's neck.

"We should have another," Betty tells him, and Coop laughs.

"I was thinking the same thing," he says. "Wouldn't it be grand?"

"Here you are," Walburga says from the doorway. "Don't you look precious? You could just leave Ellie to it— Ellie, get Dilly and Nilly, and put the boys down for their naps. Come, you two, the tea is getting cold."

Coop exchanges a look with Betty, and they both reluctantly surrender the boys to a pair of elves, who carefully settle them in an over-sized cot, after carefully prying a clinging Sirius from Betty. She doesn't even bother hiding the fact that she doesn't want to let go of him at all.

"Here," Walburga tells them, handing Betty a gilded card. "Schonemeyer's Elf Service, they're the best suppliers of nursery elves in the country. I don't know what I would do without them," she sniffles, and it's evident that the Cheering Charm has worn off completely by now. "That way, you won't have to keep scouring your robes," she adds to them both, gesturing elegantly at them. Coop and Betty look at each other, in a silent agreement to cut this visit short, after all.

Then they scour their robes from the baby drool all over both their fronts, nibble on their biscuits, and make polite smalltalk with Walburga for over an hour.

.

* * *

.

"Can you believe the _nerve_ of her?" Betty asks furiously, the instant they step out onto the Blacks' manicured garden path to apparate back home. "I'm sure she—"

 _Pop-Pop_

Suddenly they're standing in their own front drive.

"— never even holds her own child, and she _dares_ to tell us how to raise ours?!" Betty tosses the crumpled-up card into the bushes, James fast asleep in her arms, still covered in dirt from when he and Sirius discovered how much fun could be had with house plants earlier. "Gah, I sometimes want to throttle her with her precious pearls."

"That makes two of us," Coop agrees with her, but rather than angry, he's feeling sorry for the little boy they both had the hardest time leaving behind. Sirius had screamed and wailed for them, straining towards Betty from his elf's arms, and James had joined in, straining for Sirius every bit as adamantly.

"And telling us to move out so Jamie won't be exposed to those dirty Muggles!" Betty hisses disapprovingly, as she gently coaxes James awake and gets him ready for his bath, while Coop makes sure the temperature is just right and takes him from her.

"It's unfair," she mutters a little later, while they're watching James happily splashing around in the tub amid multi-coloured bubbles. "I feel terribly sorry for that lovely little boy. Some people just _shouldn't_ be parents, honey."

The following week, Walburga's owl drops off a scroll inviting them over for a visit. They stare at the letter for hours, before Betty throws it into the fire with a heavy heart.

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* * *

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The next time they see Sirius is in November, for James's first birthday.

"Walburga excuses herself," Alphard says, a bright-eyed Sirius curiously peeking out of a pram, Ellie the elf in tow. "She has been suffering from these terrible headaches… But Orion threatened to come by later."

"Let's hope he forgets," Betty states, smiling widely as she looks at Sirius. "Hello, Sirius! My, how you've grown!"

"Atta!" Sirius exclaims, both arms out and groping the air for her.

"He remembers you," Alphard chuckles. "I swear, he's the brightest child I've seen."

"That's because you haven't seen our Jamie," Coop states proudly. "Come on in, and don't mind our jungle— he's been obsessed with plants this past week."

They lead a laughing Alphard through their house and to the family room, which is still sprouting flowers from the banisters, acorns from the staircase, and has a vine curled around the chandelier.

"EEEEK!" James squeals when he sees Sirius, and an answering squeal tells Coop that Sirius remembers James, too.

The party is a whirlwind of children's laughter — the Potters have invited everyone they know, no matter how old their children, and they enjoy the chaos that only a troupe of excited little wizards and witches can bring to a home (especially if their last name is Prewett, and all five of them are here). All day, it's pure insanity, but what they enjoy best is watching James playing with the other toddlers.

"Yams!" Sirius squeaks, walking unsteadily towards one of the bay windows, and James stumbles after him, to watch the older children playing in the garden. They're full of an innocent sort of wonder — and mischief, Coop realises, when the window vanishes and suddenly the babies are all trying to pile out into the frost-bitten lawn.

"Is it bad if I want to keep him?" Betty asks Coop a little later, a sleeping Sirius clinging to her. All day, she has refused to let his elf look after him, and nobody missed how her heart melted when he called her "Etty."

"He's not a puppy," Coop chortles, a sleeping James ("Yams", according to Sirius) in his arms. "But no— it's not bad. I'd love to keep him, too."

"You'd have to queue for him," Alphard cuts in, making them laugh. "I'm afraid I have a better claim than either of you greedy monkeys."

"Better you th—"

"I am sorry I am late," a deep voice says from the door, before Coop can finish the sentence. He turns to look at Orion, whom Dinky and Hinky have just bowed in.

"You missed the cake," Betty tells him, all politeness, but the cheerful mood has evaporated. "The children had so much fun."

"Yes, I was held up. Let me take him off you," Orion replies and unceremoniously lifts a startled Sirius off Betty's arms. "Come now, son, we're going home," he adds, shaking his head when Sirius just clings to Betty's robes in confusion, which morphs into a sort of alarm when he realises who is there.

"No, Papa," Sirius wails, gripping Betty. " _No, Papa, no_! Etty! _Etty_!"

"You'll see her in the morning," Orion mutters, "Have you forgotten? We're having your party, and you'll see them all tomorrow."

" _Etty_!" Sirius is bawling now, and of course his cries have woken James up, who doesn't quite know what's going on, but adds his own tears and voice to the mix.

"Come now, _stop that_ ," Orion gives Sirius a small shake and a stern glare, effectively scaring both boys into a shocked sort of silence before anyone can calm either down. "Sorry about him, he's insufferable sometimes."

 _He's not the one who is insufferable_ , Coop thinks, but bites his tongue.

"He's been very good," Coop assures Orion instead, his arms wrapped protectively around James, who is hiding his tear-stained face in his neck. "He's a good little lad."

"Are you certain it's my boy you're talking about? He's a little rascal," Orion says, but a small smirk escapes him regardless. "I should have known he'd be a handful, all great wizards are. No matter. Walburga sends her excuses, but she looks forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"We'll be there," Betty replies, but it's not Orion she's speaking to, but Sirius, who blinks at her through silently falling tears. She even goes as far as to give him a kiss, but then she has to gently pry him off her again.

"Say goodbye now, Sirius," Orion instructs, but even he has lost the harsh tone and sounds almost gentle. "You'll see them all tomorrow."

"Baba," Sirius mumbles miserably, then turns and buries his face in Orion's shoulder.

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* * *

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"I don't want to see them _ever_ again," Betty mutters the following evening, as they're putting an exhausted James to bed, still tangled in the shining green streamers he had been playing with upon leaving Sirius's birthday party.

Coop cannot bring himself to argue; unlike James, who had the time of his life riding the Shetland pony and taking part in the many entertainments at Sirius's party, they didn't have a good day of it at all, but he knows it's not the mind-numbing smalltalk, the offending comments, or even the dull protocol surrounding the Blacks what makes Betty so frustrated.

It's that the Black kids— all of them, older than Sirius by at least three years — kept trying to teach him to say Mudblood, and everyone thought it _amusing_. It's that they applauded him when he managed to say it for the first time. It's that one of the games was Pin the Stake on the Muggle, that Sirius wasn't allowed to play with his new toys, but had to sit quietly on his high chair and say "thank you" to every guest instead. It's that she can't bear to see them ruin the little boy who clung to her again and wept and cried with real anguish when they pried him from her, yet again. It's that she can't bear to watch the Blacks turn him into another heartless, mindless petty tyrant like themselves.

Coop, in all honesty, cannot bear it either.

So they vanish the tangle of streamers around James, kiss him goodnight, and decide to forget about Sirius Black as best they can.

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* * *

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TBC, please tell me what you think of it so far. Personally, I found writing baby Sirius and James incredibly hard. Originally, I was going to attempt the "terrible twos", but I _couldn_ 't, because I just want to cuddle him instead (and possibly abscond with him as well). So, feedback greatly appreciated!

* * *

 **Up next:** We fast-forward to the spring of 1967, when Sirius and James meet officially at a time where they have mastered key life skills such as using the potty, dressing themselves (mostly), and have acquired a vocabulary of more than one word! Yay! And stuff happens.


	2. Two: Childhood

**Disclaimer:** This is not an offer to sell securities. Keep away from pets and small children. Safety goggles required during use. If rash, irritation, redness, or swelling develops, discontinue use.

* * *

 **In this chapter:** The terrible twos are cute and fun, James and Sirius meet officially (again), get in trouble, get out of trouble, then get in trouble again, have some pudding and ice cream, and Walburga is a terrible mother, did you know?

* * *

 **Two: Childhood**

* * *

James keeps his parents and their friends busy; the usual milestones — walking, talking, using the potty, learning to tie his laces — are met without much of a hitch. Coop and Betty don't miss a single one, and they sometimes have to admit they don't want to look away, for fear they'll miss something.

They spend Spring and Summer in their house in Blackpool by the beach, enjoying every new experience James makes and celebrating his accomplishments. It was clear from the start that he was a clever boy, always curious and looking for new things, and Blackpool, with its many entertainments, is just the right place to keep him busy. They take him everywhere — Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and the circus and the Muggle cinema — and strive to make every day a memorable one.

The only bit where they hit a bump is trying to teach James to control his magic, especially when they're out in public, but the accidental outbursts are easily overlooked and funny at best — even if once the Muggles at a restaurant ended up scratching their heads when James decided to make some of the lobsters become animated on their plates. The Potters take it all with good humour, one step at a time, one day at a time.

So they spoil him; they won't get to have a second child, and frankly don't care what anyone else thinks. James is sweet and loved, why shouldn't they show it?

"We look like his grandparents anyway," Coop chortles to Mimosa McKinnon one day, "might as well act the part. Besides, it's not as if he has a wobble over every little thing."

There are a few small accidents, as will happen with any young child, especially one who sticks his chubby little fingers everywhere, or summons any bug that catches his interest with that grabbing motion shared by all toddlers. Until James got stung by a bee and cried loudly until Coop got the stinger out of his finger and lathered it with honey. "Boo boo bee," was his way of telling them he'd hurt himself in any way from then on out, and no matter what the hurt is, he always wants to stick his finger in the honey pot while they're making it better.

Sometimes, when they see the Prewett twins playing with James and the McKinnons bring their children over, they still wonder how Sirius is doing. They don't mention him, or the Blacks, unless it's absolutely necessary. And, they find, it rarely is — although, as November approaches and they're hollowing out pumpkins with James, who is sitting inside one and nibbling at the orange gunk with entirely too much relish, they can't help but remember the other little boy and wonder how he's doing.

Alphard, who visits them often, sometimes tells them some stories, but he is vague on the details and the anecdotes never last. He sometimes says, "he's still in one piece, and that's what counts," which spikes Betty's curiosity beyond anything, but they don't prod. Getting in touch with the Blacks again would mean exposing their Jamie to them, and do they really want to do that?

They don't have to wonder anymore on James's second birthday. Alphard shows up at the door, with a toy broomstick for James, and Sirius in a buggy.

"He… doesn't like strangers. The Halloween Ball was a bit too much for him, you know, Elladora the elder and the younger decided to behead a handful of elves after dinner," which is a well-known Black tradition, and Coop grimaces sympathetically. "So, I'm taking him in for a few days." Alphard explains, as Sirius takes in the Muggle Halloween decorations, eyes fixed on the cartoon witch on a broomstick they hung on the door.

"Affie, that's Auntie Remora," he says, pointing and looking questioningly at him. His expression is a little anxious.

"No, no, that's just a hag," Alphard explains kindly, then turns to Betty and Coop again. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Hag." Sirius repeats thoughtfully. He is a much quieter child now, and the wide-eyed stare he fixes them with is wary. The days when he would imbue the very air with cheering charms are long gone.

"Of course you're not imposing, you could never," Coop tells him, opening the door more widely. "Come on in, make yourself at home. The Prewetts and McKinnons and Owenses came over to celebrate, I'm sure you'll both have a good time."

"Hello, Sirius. You've grown," Betty tells Sirius kindly, but he just stares up at her in silence, those big clear eyes roving over every one of her features.

"Doesn't like strangers," Alphard repeats, manoeuvres the buggy inside.

"We've met before," Coop tells him kindly. "You might not remember because it was so long ago, but I am—"

"Poop!" Sirius exclaims, and his face breaks out in a grin that shows tiny white teeth when they laugh. "Etty! Up!"

"Well, I'll be—" Alphard mutters, but he, too, is smiling widely. Just then, James ambles in, his sippy cup upside-down in his hands.

"Mama! My jush fell out again!" he cries, but then spots the buggy and its passenger. He doesn't seem to remember Sirius at all.

" _YAMS_!" It's a shriek that makes them all jump, and the next instant Sirius is already clambering out of the buggy, wearing the most excited grin along with the tiniest riding outfit in creation.

"He looks like a doll," Betty comments, taking the sippy cup from her son and summoning a full one.

"I said I was taking him riding," Alphard explains. "You know Walburga. She wants everything just so."

"Here, Jamie, here's your juicy."

"I don't want jush!" James exclaims, eyeing Sirius, then the buggy, with interest. "I want up!"

"Not up, Yams, out!" Sirius tells him, gesturing towards the large bay windows they vanished a year earlier. "In the garden."

"Out?" James ponders the matter, and Sirius nods emphatically. "We need jackets, and pancakes and eggy bread!"

"He's been helping out in the kitchen," Coop explains, laughing.

"We don't need pancakes," Sirius argues. "Come on, Yams, let's just _go!_ It's fun out." Then he turns to Alphard, all solemn. "Affie? May we go out?"

"You'll have to ask _Poop_ ," Alphard answers, clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

"Poop, may we go outside, sir?"

"It's Coop," Coop corrects, chuckling, "and if you have your jackets and scarves and gloves, you may certainly go outside."

"Coop?" Sirius echoes, frowning.

"Dad said we can go out," James reminds Sirius. "Come on. What's your name?"

"Sirius, Orion… Soren…" Sirius recites in a sing-song voice, but then trails off with a huge sigh and gives up. "Just— Sirius!"

"Come quick, Jussirius!" James cries out, jamming his knitted cap on his head and tripping over his feet on the way to the bay window, which is gone once more. "We will find a brolly in the garden! With sugar!"

"You don't put sugar on _brollies_ ," Sirius argues, "You put them on toast!" They both laugh, delighted at the joke only they understand. A moment later, Sirius is trotting after James and climbing over the couch after him, to stand on the windowsill and clamber out, like they did the previous year.

"They do get on quite well," Betty remarks, smiling with endearment as they all follow the little boys out, where they are already playing with the other children who came to the party. Of Sirius's fear of strangers, there is no sign at all, and they end up in the nearby stream, trying to catch a fish Sirius spotted jumping out of the water. "Fish boy" the other Wizarding children call him, and he seems to like it.

"I've never seen Sirius take such a quick liking to anyone before," Alphard comments after a while, puzzled.

"I could say the same for James," says Coop. "He usually plays with other kids, but goes off and does his own thing after a while," he adds, watching his son shrieking and laughing with Sirius, drenched to the bone and having a blast trying to catch a fish that is long gone, covered in warming charms and quite unbothered at being wet.

"You should bring him over more often," Betty decides, smiling widely. And just like that, Sirius Black is once more drawn into the Potters' lives.

The following day, they celebrate Sirius's birthday at Alphard's — "Orion cancelled his party because Sirius shamed them during the Halloween Ball," he explains, smiling with satisfaction. "That means, no Blacks this year."

"And isn't _that_ a brilliant gift," Coop comments, and they all laugh with relief. It's just them, but Sirius and James don't seem to care or have eyes for anyone else anyway. They play in the hayloft — leaving them to wonder how the little boys got up there to begin with — and ride the winged horses, which James absolutely loves. Anything to do with heights or flight is fascinating to him, and Sirius seems to be the same in that regard.

The cake, which James and Sirius end up wearing, is delicious, and the three adults spend the evening running after them both as they zip around on their tiny toy broomsticks, in a game of tag that makes Betty's hands fly to her mouth with suppressed alarm more than once.

Over the next few days and weeks, they see a lot of each other. Alphard visits more regularly now, and two times out of three, he has Sirius with him; whenever the Blacks can't be bothered with their heir, they send him away with his uncle. It happens more often than Coop would have imagined, but he can't complain; James and Sirius are very fond of each other, and soon become virtually inseparable. When they put them down for naps, they invariably end up in the same cot, and they _must_ sit next to each other during meals, to avoid a meltdown of epic proportions.

Coop and Betty enjoy every minute of it enormously, and Alfie often leaves very late because the Potters won't relinquish his sleeping nephew, who always curls up against Betty, his hands gripping her robes as though she would vanish into thin air if he lets go.

On Christmas lunch, however, this respite is over and the proverbial dung hits the proverbial fan. Orion must've heard where his brother takes his son, and he is nothing short of infuriated when he sees the Prewetts at the long table, as well as the Owenses with their little lad.

"Who do you think you are?!" Orion doesn't shout. He only makes everyone wish he were. "You dare take my son — my firstborn son — and bring him here, to consort with blood-traitors and Mudblood scum?" Orion snaps at Alphard, making everyone shrink away from him. James and Sirius stare at him, frozen, bits of roast beef in their hands, their eyes very wide as The Black bears down on Coop and Betty.

"And _you_ ," he snaps, stormy grey eyes boring into Coop's hazel ones as he takes three strides towards a terrified Sirius and yanks him out of his high chair. Orion slaps the bits of roast from his hands, "letting the likes of _that_ soil and besmirch your house with my son here! I thought you were better than this, _cousin_. The nerve of you!"

Sirius's hands and face are roughly wiped clean, and then he is set down and pulled away by his arm. He totters along, hurrying to keep up with Orion's long stride in abject fear. This time, though, he doesn't wail or scream. This time, he lets his father pull him along, gives Yams and Etty and Coop a last, longing look.

As the front door shuts with a slam and they are startled from their shock, James wails disconsolately. He asks for Jussirius for weeks, doesn't understand why he won't come back.

"But we were _good_ ," he sobs, clearly thinking they did something wrong. "Bring him back, Dada!" Coop holds his little boy, but he can't be sure if James will get to see Sirius again before Hogwarts, and that is still such a long time away.

They don't see him again, not for years.

While Alphard visits them still and they are all too well-acquainted with Orion's wrath to allow it to get in the way of their long friendship, he is banned from the Black household and from seeing Sirius for months.

When he is finally allowed to take his little nephew again in March — after what they termed a _disastrous_ Imbolc, neither Walburga nor Orion want him around for the Spring Feast— he is absolutely forbidden from taking him to the Potters again. Whenever Betty and Coop ask how Sirius is doing, Alphard shrugs, smiles, and invariably replies, "You know. He's all right. Getting bigger every day."

.

* * *

.

On the twelfth of July, 1967, Coop and Betty find themselves backed against the wall.

"Do we _have_ to?" The plaintive tone is what he'd expected to hear from their son; instead, Betty is complaining. To Coop's right, James snorts into his porridge.

"It's her one-hundredth and twenty-fifth birthday," Coop replies. "Yes. I'm afraid we _have_ to."

"I don't wanna…" James pipes up. He has, of course, no idea why Betty is complaining. His only contact with the Black family has been Alphard, and he likes him well enough. However, he won't get to play with his friends down the street if they go to the party, and that alone is enough to want to give the whole thing a pass.

"Jamie, I'm sure you'll have fun," says Coop encouragingly, ignoring Betty's sceptical look. "Besides, you haven't met them. You might make some friends.

"Aren't they stuck-up stuffy old bats?"James asks two hours later, proving he does pick up more than Coop had previously thought. Betty blushes crimson, tying his highly-polished boots.

"Yes, but don't call them that to their face," Coop corrects gently, holding up three ties for Betty to pick one out for him. She smiles, gets to her feet, and produces an ascot, which she proceeds to place around his neck.

James watches his reflection in the mirror. They've used lots of Sleek-Eazy to make his unruly hair stay down, and he looks very smart.

"Why can't I call them stuck-up, stuffy old—"

"It's impolite," Coop informs him, as Betty directs him towards the table, where she laid out his pins and cuff links. Then she deftly ties a cravat around James's neck and helps him into his grey frock coat and elegant outer robes.

"I don't want to make friends with them, then," James decides petulantly, crossing his arms. He does, however, greatly appreciate the dress robes he is being allowed to wear, especially made for this occasion, and he admires himself in the great mirror in Betty's parlour, where they are all getting ready.

"We certainly won't make any," Betty replies, with a frustrated little sigh and a glance at the clock. "Especially as we are already a bit late."

"If they don't like it, then those stuck-up, stuffy old bats can eat our hats," Coop replies genially, making them all laugh. He hands James his top hat and gloves, helps Betty into her silk dress robes, then declares them all ready to leave.

"Why do we have to wear gloves?" James wants to know as they apparate to Black Park in Whitchurch. "It's the middle of the Summer."

"Because otherwise you won't be stuffy enough for the party," Coop tells him with a wink, and James gives him a confused smile. "Now, remember, Jamie. Be polite to everyone, and gallant like—"

"Godric Gryffindor," James finishes for him, taking the big wrapped gift they are giving Great-Aunt Elladora.

"That's my little man," Betty tells him proudly, opening her umbrella with a smile. "We ought to have snapped some photographs for the family album."

"As you said, we are dreadfully late," Coop replies. "We'll take some later."

.

* * *

.

They arrive at Elladora's around the same time the Malfoys and Lestranges, so it is dreadful for other reasons. Betty's hand tightens around Coop's arm and he gives her an encouraging pat. All the years they've stayed away from this lot seem to dissolve into nothing upon seeing them again. Together, they step into a world that never seems to change; only the children they last saw six years ago mark how long has passed.

"We'll leave as soon as we can," he promises, then steers his family towards the pavilion erected like an outdoors throne room, where the ancient witch is sitting. They reacquaint her with James, whom she hasn't seen since Sirius's naming — "He still has the family resemblance. Good," she sniffles — and she graciously allows him to kiss her hand. James does so reluctantly, then gives her a stiff little bow — "At least you've instilled manners in him," she adds critically — and a few minutes and niceties later, they have finished with the most crucial part of the protocol.

"At least we're rid of the box," says James, making Coop chuckle. His son is already looking around curiously at the two hundred witches and wizards milling about the enormous open pavilions, catered to by wizards and witches today — to mark the importance of the occasion — and clearly wonders what they're supposed to do next.

"There's still a couple of hellos," Betty tells her son. "Most of them are your cousins and aunts and uncles, you know."

"That's a _lot_ of cousins," James remarks, clearly wondering if he's got to kiss all the witches' hands and bristling at the thought.

And there, greeting all the newcomers and exchanging niceties with Albertus Malfoy, is Orion Black, one hand gripping his son's shoulder, as if fearing he'll run away if he lets go. However long has passed, Coop recognises Sirius easily, and next to him, Betty gives him a wistful look as well.

Coop has the hardest time not staring: Sirius is taller than James by a smidge, immaculately dressed in a dark grey frock and silver vest under his dress robes, greeting the guests his father directs him towards with perfect politeness. He kisses the witches' hands, gives wizards a handshake or a bow, and there's none of James's stiffness in his movements, as though he does this every day. Coop wouldn't put it past his cousin, who keeps a sharp eye on his son.

And yet, there is no mistaking the glint of mischief in his clear eyes, the unspoken defiance when he has to greet ten-year-old Lucius Malfoy, who sneers at him and immediately runs off to join Crabbe and Goyle and a group of other children who look every bit as stuffy and stuck-up as expected. Sirius, though, watches him go with a calculating look. Clearly, there is no love lost between them, and for a moment, the Potters are both remembering the fun-loving, bright and sweet little boy Sirius probably ceased to be long ago. Coop and Betty exchange a glance, give him a commiserating look.

"This is Mr. Riddle," Orion is saying as they approach, staring at his son with something like expectation. Sirius's expression doesn't change, but he does not extend his hand to the tall, blue-eyed wizard.

"How do, Mr. Riddle?" Sirius asks, but the nod he gives him is almost defiant. There is a slight jut to his chin that's impossible to miss. Mr. Riddle laughs genially. It is a rolling, pleasant sound, and it chills Coop to the bone.

"He's a _fine_ boy," he comments, clapping a disappointed Orion on the shoulder. "I'll go join your wife for a snifter. You've got guests."

"Cousin, what a _surprise_ ," Orion drawls, rotating a fraction to bow to the Potters, fingers digging into Sirius's shoulder and turning him around. At his side, Sirius's expression morphs into disbelief and he stares at them, mouth agape. "It's been _years_."

"We wouldn't miss Elladora's big day for the world," Coop lies politely through his teeth.

"This is cousin Fleamont," Orion tells Sirius, who gives him a confused glance, the tiniest of headshakes. "His wife Euphemia, and their son—"

"Yams," Sirius cuts in.

"James," Coop corrects kindly. "But you used to call him—"

" _Yams_?" James asks, snorting.

"You were both very small," Betty explains, but she is smiling.

"Your name isn't really Fleamont, is it, sir?" Sirius asks, innocently curious.

"I usually go by Coop."

"I would too," Sirius agrees with a crooked smile, and Orion chuckles.

" _Oy_ —" James protests, but Betty holds him back, whispers something soothingly in his ear.

"And this is…" Coop gestures to his wife.

"Etty," Sirius says with a smile that actually reaches his eyes and reveals perfect, gleaming white teeth.

"Betty," she corrects, but she too, is smiling widely. "I can't believe you remember."

"Good memory, this one," Orion states, smirking coolly at them. "If he only applied it to what _matters_. But alas, he prefers to waste his time with childish endeavours."

"He'll grow out of it, I'm sure," Betty says gently, but her expression has lost its gleam.

"We'll need someone to guide us, I fear my recollections of this place are a bit sketchy," Coop says then, giving James's shoulder a squeeze. "Could we borrow your lad? He could acquaint our James with the other children, introduce him to his many relations. As you said, it's been years."

"Yes, yes, all right. He can introduce _Yams_ to the rest," Orion's tone is bored, but that changes as he turns the small boy towards him. "Sirius," he snaps imperiously at his son, who flinches to attention. "If I hear you put _one_ toe out of line…" The threat is unmistakable, hanging over all their heads like an anvil.

"Yes, Father."

"You'll be in charge of your cousin James. Make sure he has a good time, do the rounds, introduce him to the others. Remember the rules of precession, James is your second cousin, once removed — Charlus's line."

"Yes, Father."

"You are to make sure he is all right at all times. Listen to the Potters and make sure they want for nothing. And _stay out of trouble_." That last is delivered with the tiniest inflection and a definite warning.

"Yes, Father." It is resigned, as though Sirius doesn't believe he can do what is asked of him. They wait for Orion to lope towards a group of witches and wizards in silence. Then Sirius turns to them, clearly trying not to stare at James, who is seizing him up quite openly. "So, where would you like to go first?" he asks them.

"Nowhere," Betty tells him, smiling. "We sadly know this place inside and out," she admits. "We just thought you could use a break. I can't believe how you've grown. Last time we saw you, you and Jamie were—"

"Two," Sirius told her, but he's smiling brightly at them. "I remember. Father was very cross…" he turns to make sure his father is actually out of earshot, then adds, "He's cross a _lot_ , so don't take it personally."

"We don't," Coop lies.

"Why is he cross?" James asks, eyes narrowed. He is clearly still stung because Sirius found Coop's name funny.

"He's a very important wizard, I suppose he has to be," is the answer, with a little shrug. "First time here, then?" he asks James next.

"Yep."

"You haven't missed a thing," Sirius informs him, scanning their immediate vicinity for eavesdroppers. "They're a bunch of stuck-up—"

"Stuffy old bats?" James finishes for him, shrewdly.

"I was going for gargoyles," Sirius tells him with a genuine grin, "But yeah, bats works too. Just don't let them hear you say it, they'll screech and flap at you like banshees." Both boys grin at each other, and Coop and Betty exchange a surprised sort of look. It seems as though James and Sirius are already bonding once more. What's more surprising is that, so far at least, the Blacks haven't completely corrupted their scion.

"Alfie!" Sirius exclaims suddenly, looking over James's shoulder at an approaching figure. "Look who's here!"

"I heard, and I couldn't believe my ears," Alphard says genially, and Coop inwardly sighs with relief at seeing one friendly face. "And you're in charge of showing James around, I hear," he adds to Sirius, who nods enthusiastically. "Are you being good?"

"The best!"

"Then I shall speak to your father. You do look like you could use a fortnight away from here."

"This time, for sure," Sirius replies with utter certainty. "Come, James. There's a tree over up the hill. You can see everything from there." They race away, in the opposite direction Orion had demanded.

"Annnnd, there goes his fortnight away from here," Alphard states, shaking his head with amusement. "I just hope they don't get in too much trouble."

"He's…" Betty starts, then trails off.

"Not what you expected, I gather," Alphard finishes for her. "He's _different_ , and it's starting to show. Not a drop of Darkness in him, and a good head on his shoulders, it vexes Orion to no end. But come, let us have a drink to your health, I assure you, Sirius will look after James like a hawk, and they will get into all kinds of trouble. Let us enjoy ourselves in the meantime."

.

* * *

.

"Who are those?" James asks, perched on a thick branch of the tall elm tree they have claimed. One branch over, Sirius follows his pointing finger, adjusting his top hat so it won't fall off.

"The little silver-blond one with the face like a rat is called Lucius Malfoy. He thinks he's amazing, but he's just a git," Sirius informs, and James snickers. "And the two gorillas with him are called Crabbe and Goyle, they're in Second Year at Hogwarts, but they're _really_ dim, so you'll be all right as long as they don't grab you. Thick as pea-soup, but really strong. It's _her_ you want to look out for, though," he adds. "See the hag with the lime-green robes?"

James nods, squinting, and sees a very pretty, black-haired girl of about thirteen twirling her wand in the air.

"She's my cousin Bellatrix. She'll call you names and irritate you into getting into a fight with her, then hex you and blame you for it. But," he adds as an afterthought, "she got held back at Hogwarts."

"Really?"

"Yeah, all she knows are hexes and curses. Can't do anything else with her wand, so she failed First Year, and then this year she is just starting Second Year with those gorillas. Even Crabbe and Goyle got to Second Year without having to repeat. Point that out and she'll lose her aim," he advises next, and James laughs. "I call her Trixie Pixie Can't Aim For Shite," Sirius confides, earns himself another wave of laughter. "It ticks her off royally. But really," he adds, "It's best just to stay out of her way. She's friends with the Lestrange brothers, and they're really good at magic."

"She looks mean, though," James establishes, watching the other wizarding kids gang up on a smaller one. "Who's the kid they're picking on?" Sirius snorts.

"Don't feel sorry for MacNair," he advises. "He's _nasty_. Likes to kill animals for no reason. He's starting Hogwarts in September, but he's as bad as the rest of them."

"Don't their parents say anything?" James asks, scandalised. Sirius gives him a confused look, shakes his head.

"No. They don't mind. Why should they?" he asks curiously.

"Well, they shouldn't be so mean."

"They're a bunch of beasts," Sirius replies matter-of-factly. "I try to stay away from them."

"My Dad would have something to say about that," James decides, crossing his arms. "Doesn't yours?"

" _Father?_ " Sirius thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "He only ever tells _me_ off because I'm not like them."

"But… they're _awful_ ," James decides. Sirius gives him a sideways glance. This is the first time anyone has _ever_ agreed with him on anything, and he's very glad this obscure second cousin appeared out of nowhere today.

"Yeah." Sirius watches them for a moment, then adds, "When I introduce you, just say hello and we can leave right after. It's never good when they're all together, and the Lestrange brothers just got here." He points at a pair of boys who are older, about fourteen. "They're the worst of the lot, they're starting Fourth Year at Hogwarts, and they know a _lot_ of hexes, more than Bellatrix, even."

"Why do we have to say hello at all?" James asks suddenly. Sirius blinks.

"Because… Because Father said to. If we don't…" He'd be in trouble. And Sirius _can't_ get in trouble today, because if he does, he won't be allowed to visit Alfie for _two weeks_. What's worse though, is, they all know it. They _always_ ruin it, to the point that Sirius believes the promise of two weeks at Alfie's — the customary promised reward if he behaves — is nothing more than a lie to get him to do stuff he'd rather not. He's suspected it for a while, but now he's thinking about it, really thinking about it… he doesn't really want to go say hello.

"Well, is there anything else to do here?" James asks curiously while Sirius is pondering these weighty matters, now scanning the rest of the party and the old manor house. "We can just say hello later, like, when they're done with each other."

"There's a broom shed," Sirius informs, brightening. "Can you fly?"

"Can I _fly_?" James grins. "I _so_ can fly."

"We could…" Sirius's sense of self-preservation takes the chance to ring out an alarm. However, he's come to an important conclusion: the promise of visiting Alfie _is_ a _lie_. Even if he's on his best behaviour — he always is, or tries to be at least — he'll never be allowed to go. And since he'll be punished either way…

 _Sod it,_ he thinks, and swings off his branch to the one below it.

"We'll nick a broom," he promises, suddenly determined to have some fun today, after all. Something tells him that this — _today_ — won't happen again so soon. He'll make the most of it while he can. "C'mon, James, let's just _go_."

"You're—"

"Waiting for you to come on down," Sirius looks up at James, who is staring at him.

"You're… the fish boy! You're Jussirius!" James exclaims. Sirius hasn't ever felt _this_ good. He remembers. James just went and _remembered_ him. "We went into a frozen creek together! You wanted to catch a fish with a brolly!"

"Yes!" Sirius confirms. "And you kept saying we needed eggy bread to get it done."

James swings down, takes the last bit at a jump. Then they stand there, facing each other, stare into each other's eyes. They both sense something big is happening, something that already happened once, a lifetime ago. Sirius feels all big and grown up in comparison to his child self, and, he decides, he won't lose James again.

James solemnly sticks out his hand. Sirius takes it, shakes it.

"Broom shed?" he suggests, undoing his cravat and rolling up his sleeves. James nods.

"Broom shed," he agrees. But just then, Sirius realises they have been standing here for too long… and they have been spotted.

At six years old, Sirius doesn't know too many curse words. If he did, he'd have picked the worst one and put it to good use.

"They're done with each other," he mutters with dismay. When he turns to face the bunch of very unwelcome wizarding kids marching toward them, he is very much aware that this is going to end in a fight. It always does, when they all come together like this. He watches the last shreds of hope for a fortnight at Alfie's dissolve into nothingness as they approach, but takes one step forward anyway.

"Baby cousin," Bellatrix croons. "Uncle Orion said you'd introduce us to the Blood-Traitor brat."

"Don't call him that! He's not a Blood-Traitor," Sirius snaps furiously, takes another step forward to stand between them and James. The latter only gives them all a confused look, as though he's never heard the term before.

"He _so_ is," Lucius drawls, hand in hand with Narcissa, who giggles like she's as dim as the Goyles. " _My_ father said the Potters are all the same."

"Take that back." Sirius demands, but all they do is laugh.

"Yeah, take that back!" James might not know what a Blood-Traitor is, but he can clearly tell he's being insulted.

"What will you do about it, widdle baby Sirius?" Bellatrix asks mockingly. "You don't even have a wand yet, and we…" Five wands are suddenly aimed at them. "We do have wands."

"Maybe, but you don't know how to use them," Sirius points out, making Bellatrix blush furiously and some of the others falter. James laughs. "You can't even aim properly."

"I'll get you for that—"

Sirius would have loved to have a wand, just then. Just to make her eat her words, just for a _moment_. Instead, he and James are thrown against the tree, amidst the jeering and cat-calling of the other kids. Their hats fall off their heads and roll down the hillock they're all on.

"Blood-Traitor!" they yell. "Blood-Traitor!" and a new term Sirius hasn't heard before, aimed at him: "Muggle lover."

"Take that _back_!" Sirius snaps.

"You're just beastly!" James adds, raffling himself up. "Mean and big and _stupid_!"

"You don't even know what Blood-Traitor _means_ , do you?" asks Rodolphus, his wand already up. "How stupid does that make _you_?"

The others take a step back — his hexes sometimes don't hit their targets, but when they do… they're bad. Usually, this is Sirius's cue to run. But he can't with James here— he _did_ promise he'd make sure he was all right, and he's his friend. He can't just leg it. Rabastan steps in front of Rodolphus then, gives James a push that makes him fall backwards.

"Leave him alone!" Sirius shouts, lunging at Rabastan and pushing him now. Luck is on his side, because Rabastan stumbles backwards into Rodolphus, to the outburst of laughter all around.

"Baby Sirius, you surprise us all today," Bella shrieks with laughter, and even MacNair — whose nose is bleeding — mocks the Lestranges along with the rest. This, of course, makes them charge at him and James. Something happens then— the ground starts shaking, and a branch falls off the tree and blasts into a million pieces, throwing them all to the ground.

"Come on," James pulls Sirius away. They're both covered in splinters, but unhurt. Behind them, the other kids are wailing and Bellatrix is shrieking, "You'll pay for this, I'll tell Uncle Orion!" They don't stop running until they've reached the relative safety of a hedge, grass-stained and panting and shaking with adrenaline.

"They're a menace," James establishes. Sirius can just nod, already dreading what his father will do in retaliation. "You made a branch fall, though," James tells him next, with undisguised admiration, and Sirius forgets all about consequences. Nobody has ever praised him for his constant magical accidents. Usually all he does is get in trouble.

"You blew it up," Sirius points out, in the same awed tone James is using. They grin at each other, and Sirius realises this is something _special_. Never before has _anyone_ stood their ground with him. With James next to him, not even the Lestranges could do anything. Not even _Bellatrix_.

"We made them _all_ run," James realises.

"They were crying like _babies_."

And it's the funniest thing in creation.

By the time they reach the shed, Sirius has lost his frock and cravat, and his outer robes are somewhere on the grounds. Next to him, James is in a similarly dishevelled state. They are both flushed from their race, hiding from the other witches and wizards, and they press themselves against the heavy locked door, hearts hammering wildly. James is the first to examine the lock.

"Locked," he establishes, banging on the thick wooden planks.

"We'll open it," Sirius decides, unbuttoning his waistcoat. With James next to him, he has realised, nothing is impossible. They made the _Lestranges_ run. They made Bellatrix _cry_. Who can stop them now? Certainly not a stupid door.

"How?"

"The same way we made them all run," Sirius offers. "Let's just _push_."

"But it's spelled shut."

"Just push," Sirius repeats, both hands against the grain. "Push, and order it to open."

"It's a door— it won't obey."

"Sure will," Sirius insists. "It's just wood. It has to listen. The tree did." They press their sweaty palms against the door, each willing it to open. Their first shove doesn't do anything, but the second makes it rattle a bit.

"Harder!" James cries out, and they swing back and forth, shoving harder, harder, _harder_. The door creaks. "It's working!" he squeaks with excitement.

"Opennnnnnn," Sirius yells — and then there's a _bang_! and they both topple and roll forward into the shed, which contains racks of dusty old broomsticks and Quidditch gear.

"IT WORKED!" they yell, their need for secrecy forgotten in their excitement.

James wasn't lying, Sirius establishes a moment later, as they're whizzing through the air. He _can_ fly, and he's good at it. They whoosh back and forth around the old country house — away from the guests, of course — and Sirius gives James a tour of the place from outside.

"This is Elladora's drawing room," he says, as they're hovering outside a second-storey window. "It smells of mothballs, and it's _really_ dusty. And this is the chimney where they burn herbs and things for like, rituals…"

.

* * *

.

James doesn't regret having come to this party at all. He's got lots of friends his age, like the Prewett twins and Marlene McKinnon and Wilson Owens, but none are remotely like Sirius Black. He never has _adventures_ with them, usually they just play and fool around — but Sirius is different. Here, with him, there's actual danger — not that James can dimension what the danger is; their shared experience with the other kids earlier made his heart race, and his palms sweat, and he loves the feeling of accomplishment that still lingers — and everything they've done today has been exciting, and forbidden and more fun than he's had, _ever_.

Sirius knows all the stuck-up, stuffy rules and how to get around them. And Sirius is sure they'll be _killed_ if anyone sees them all grimy and sweaty. James is very excited about the prospect.

"They're all so pompous, you can't _ever_ look like you're having fun," he tells James with utter certainty, as they realise they're very hungry and put the broomsticks behind a shrubbery for later use. "And if they catch us, they won't let us eat and send us to get our ears washed instead." So, they make sure nobody sees them crawl under the long tables, and manage to get an entire bowl of chocolate pudding, which they then eat right _there_ , under the table. With their _fingers_.

It's the best pudding James has ever had, and he and Sirius are both smeared with the stuff and grinning and giggling at each other.

Like all good things, it comes to an end too soon.

James is sitting on the rooftop with Sirius, enjoying the rolling countryside and the warm breeze and eating the mince pies they've stuffed into their pockets, when an elf carrying all their discarded clothing in a pair of coat hangers suddenly pops up in front of them and almost makes their brooms fall to the ground.

"Master Sirius," says the elf worriedly, "they is looking for you."

"Och, Ellie, _no_ ," Sirius moans. "Can't you tell them you haven't found us? Just this once, _please_."

"Please, Master Sirius, Ellie cannot. Put this on, hurry. Ellie will clean you up and not say where she found the little masters." She quickly cleans them up as best she can, makes them as presentable as possible, takes the pudding bowl… and suddenly they are both broomless… and on the ground.

Sirius's mother, James decides, is not _just_ stuck-up and stuffy. She's very pretty, has a very ugly hat, and is _very_ frightening, like those evil hags in the scary stories, only without the warts or the green skin. This assessment, however, comes a little after she arrives. He doesn't even see her at first, all he sees is a teal blur and a whole bunch of feathers— and then there is a sound like a firecracker, and Sirius, who was standing next to him just a second ago, is sent flying backwards a handful of feet.

James has never seen anything like it. Sure, he's seen Fabian and Gideon's mum threaten them with "the switch", and has gotten scolded himself sometimes. But he's never seen something quite like Sirius's mum when she's angry.

He stares at the scene in shock; at Sirius, who is holding a hand to his face with a panicked expression, at Sirius's furious mother. Why is she _hitting_ Sirius? He stares at his father for help — his parents are somehow here as well — but the witch is already yanking Sirius up by the ear, raising her hand again—

"Why are you _doing_ that?" James cries. "Dad! We didn't do anything—"

"Shut up, you!" snaps the witch — Auntie Walburga, James remembers now — and glares at him. "He blasted a tree at them all! Disgraceful, shameful behaviour!"

"They called us names," James interrupts, staring at Walburga in disbelief. His heart is hammering so hard, his words come out in a gasp. When she turns to look at him, her dark eyes flashing, James feels his knees go weak. Behind Walburga Black, Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers are watching them, smirking and pointing at them triumphantly.

"Did they, now?" Walburga asks, gives Sirius a dirty look, but doesn't let go of his ear. Then she zeroes in on James again.

"They called me a— a blood-traitor, and him a… a Muggle… Muggle lover or something," James stammers, now looking between his parents and Sirius's mum. "And they slammed us against the tree— and… and... I blasted the branch."

"Oh, really?" Walburga turns to glare at the other wizarding kids, who have lost their smirks. Bellatrix flinches back, her nasty little grin gone.

"Is this true?" Walburga wants to know. Sirius nods, eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Y-Yes, Mother."

"But you still got into a fight," she snaps. "Why do you _always_ have to bring us shame? Mark my words, you will _not_ get away with this. Every time there's trouble, you're involved."

"Yes, Mother. Forgive me, Mother." Sirius murmurs, standing on tiptoes. She still hasn't let go of his ear.

"Let me take care of these two," James's Dad says just then, and he looks and sounds so stern, James turns his wide-eyed stare at him. He looks cross, more cross than he has ever seen him, and he doesn't understand why. For a moment only, a _terrible_ moment, James feels dread. Will his Dad hit him, too? Will he hit Sirius? But then his Dad gives him a tiny wink, and James realises, he's only _pretending_ to be cross.

"I'll give them their just desserts," Dad says sternly, and Sirius bites his lip, looking from his mother to James's Dad.

A small boy Sirius had told James is his little brother laughs and points at them, "You're getting whip—"

"Don't point, Regulus," Walburga corrects, letting Sirius stagger towards James's Dad. "Ten will do, cousin. A goblin will bring you the cane if you wi—"

Huh? Goblin? Cane? _What_?

"Oh, I'll do better," says his Dad, shaking his head at her offer. James tries to give Sirius a reassuring look, but he has his eyes fixed on the ground, face burning, lips pressed tightly together.

"Very well. Bellatrix, my dear." Walburga turns her glare towards the girl. "Let us go see _your_ father. I am sure he will be very interested in your doings." She grips Bellatrix's shoulder and steers her away without another glance at them, and James lets out a breath. The Blacks, he decides, are scarier than the hags in the stories.

"Let me look at that," Dad is saying, and when James turns, he sees Sirius look up at him. He doesn't flinch when Dad takes out his wand, but it's clear he's expecting some kind of punishment to follow. Of course, Dad doesn't do such a dreadful thing; he heals his reddening cheek instead, and now Sirius looks shocked. "Better?" he asks. Sirius nods, stunned.

"Come, boys," says his Mum, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders and steering them behind the house. The next instant, they are in the busy, familiar bustle of Diagon Alley. James finds he can breathe again.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"Fortescue's," his Dad replies, leading them to the ice cream parlour. Next to him, Sirius is gaping.

"But what about—"

"I have had enough of that garden party, and I believe ice cream does wonders to wash away any upset," his Dad tells them, then gives them a mischievous smile. "I did say I'd give you two your just _desserts_. And here we are."

James finds the way Sirius's mouth falls open very funny.

.

* * *

.

"Why don't you two tell us all about your adventure?" Betty wants to know, as they're all settled at a table under an enormous umbrella and she has rid the boys of their ties and hats and gloves. They might look charming in their outfits, but they hardly look comfortable in them.

She is still cross at Walburga for how she manhandled her son, but sadly, this sort of discipline is all too common in Britain, and Wizarding Britain is no different. She is only glad that the boys look like they are over their shock — the enormous choco-nut fudge sundaes in front of them seem to help a lot there — and Sirius seems to have shaken it off completely.

She watches them exchange a glance — they're already deep in cahoots, aren't they? — and they seem to come to an unspoken agreement. Then they launch into a detailed explanation — or rather, a full confession — of what happened, from the moment they both left her and Coop's side.

"I'll speak to your father, Sirius," Coop promises, in that gentle tone that makes people trust him instantly, and Sirius is no different; already he is looking at him with the most innocently admiring look. "And don't worry, I won't tell him about the brooms or the pudding," he adds, and the boys let out a breath. "You were very brave, both of you."

"Like Godric Gryffindor?" James asks hopefully.

" _Exactly_ like Godric Gryffindor," Coop tells them proudly, and James breaks into a grin. Sirius just looks puzzled.

"Who's that?" he asks curiously.

"Just the most brilliant wizard after Merlin," James tells him in disbelief. "How can you _not_ have heard of him? He's one of the Founders of Hogwarts!"

"There's more than _one_?" Now Sirius looks disbelieving. Gods, they're adorable. Betty smiles, gives her husband a grateful look over the rim of her cup of tea. He defused a potentially terrible situation and turned this into an outing she — and the boys — can actually enjoy.

"Of course— there's _four_ of them. But the best of them all is Godric," James informs. "We live in his house."

" _Really_?"

And, for the first time, Sirius hears the tale of the Four Founders, and how they decided to create the greatest school the Wizarding World had ever seen; he and James hang onto Coop's every word as he tells them of the adventures of the four inseparable friends — brave and gallant Godric Gryffindor, hard-working Helga Hufflepuff, clever Rowena Ravenclaw, and cunning Salazar Slytherin.

" _Him_ I've heard of," Sirius tells them. "I don't like him, he's like Bellatrix, always setting everyone up to get them in trouble."

Coop chuckles, "That he is. Who do you like best?"

"Godric," Sirius answers, and James grins all the wider. He has always liked that they are descended from him in a direct line, the only interest he's ever had in genealogy. "He's all brave and everything. And Rowena, because she outsmarts old Salazar at every turn. And Helga, because she likes badgers."

"So, everyone else," James points out.

"They sound nicer, and badgers are brilliant," Sirius answers with a shrug, digs into his ice cream with gusto. When a food fight breaks out a little later, Betty seeks shelter behind her umbrella with Coop, drinking in the excited, squeaky laughter and shrieks and convinced that they did the right thing going to that garden party, after all.

"I'm glad we went to see those bats today," she tells her husband, who laughs and kisses her on the cheek. "James made a friend… again."

"Third time's the charm, isn't it?" Coop replies thoughtfully, but he's smiling widely, watching James splatter Sirius with ice cream and getting splattered in return. They find it hilarious, and are soon chasing each other around the tables, as wild and carefree as they should be.

"They were inseparable as toddlers already," she points out. She half can't believe it, but this is one Black she wouldn't mind letting her son around.

"Let's make sure Jamie gets to keep him, this time," Coop agrees. "We'll work something out with Alphard."

.

* * *

.

TBC, as soon as work allows. If you've made it this far, do let me know what you think. All feedback, however short, is as always very helpful and muchly appreciated!

* * *

 **Next up:** Alfie, Coop and Betty make sure the boys stay in touch. Sirius gets his wand, and he and James get into heaps of trouble. _Heaps_ , I tell you. They get in so much trouble, in fact, Betty has to put her foot down. And putt putt golfing, Muggle wear, and, yes — motorbikes.


End file.
